


to vanish in the dark of dream

by klismaphilia



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Anatomically Impossible Sex, Angst and Porn, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Broken Bones, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Extreme Fisting, Fisting, Frottage, Full-Body Penetration, Gratuitous Smut, Human/Monster Romance, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inflation, Mind Manipulation, Multiple Penetration, Mutual Pining, Obsession, Other, Self-Lubrication, Shapeshifting, Sort Of, Tentacle Sex, Teratophilia, Vaginal Sex, pining angst and porn, thats basically what this is, we love and support human/entity relationships in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 05:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21368824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/klismaphilia
Summary: They were told to beware of the wailing in the woods, but caution can only do so much, and humans have always been drawn to the things that they are told they should fear.
Relationships: Death/Human, Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Non-Human Character(s), Venereth/Alexei Wright
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FullMetamorphosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullMetamorphosis/gifts).

> another collaborative piece with TJ (FullMetamorphosis), from i believe April, that i recently cleaned up to post. enjoy.

i.

  
  


Every afternoon, like clockwork, the noises would start.

Alexei’s only lived in this small town for less than a year, but even they had quickly come to the realization: there was danger in the noises that came from the forest. Something like screaming, but with a glitchy, static-like overtone, moaning, rasping. Something you’d only hear in your worst nightmares, that made your body go cold and the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight. Many would probably say that it was the most horrendous sound they had heard in their lives.

Alexei Wright was not among that number.

They pause in their computer work and turn their attention to the window. It’s early morning, a foggy day, but something about the noises makes them want to go look. Something about the _ screaming _ makes them . . . they don’t know. Feel _ alive _ or something. It’s the most peculiar thing. They can’t shake it.

They look back to their computer screen. They'd been working on a write-up for their night school, but it could surely wait long enough for them to take a look outside, right?

Right?

They get up from the desk and walk out of their apartment, into the misty outdoors.

A thick fog had settled over the town, and it clung like a veil of pale, unfiltered smoke to the trees and the woodland brush in the distance. The sky had been grey for some number of hours; dismal and roiling with the threat of storm. It rained too often, here; since Alexei had moved to the small, mountain village, storms had been through at least twice a week, and the winter snows were more frigid than the rain. There wasn't much reprieve from the cold, and bundling up in heavy clothing with a small space heater at hand only did so much.

As they stepped outside, the wind seemed to howl louder, and more menacingly than before, hissing through the branches of tall pines and oaks, rustling leaves as it blew about, shaking everything in the vicinity to the point of being centrifugal. The sound carried with it, varying between a low, uncanny static, ephemeral humming and endless wailing. It was almost haunting, carrying down the hills and through the trees, out into the street where Alexei now stood. They could almost feel it calling to them, beckoning…

The cold is getting under their skin, and they wish they had thrown on a jacket - a sweater, even, just something more than the blanket they'd pulled over their shoulders. It was just coming out of March, and the weather was still dismal, even sad. Winters here were hard to get used to, but there was a time where the cold could seem... comforting, oddly enough. Almost unusually so -

Across the street, a bird falls out of the sky.

They start, and see the bird go still. A raven, by the looks of it - it now lies dead, flat on the ground. They've barely stopped to examine it when another does the same. A crow, this time, the one that had been perched ominously at the top of a wooden post not long before. They take a step back, before a third drops like a stone to the ground, only a few feet from where they've been standing.

They don't have to look very closely at the birds to tell that all of them are dead. Alexei furrows their brow. It wasn't too strange for dead birds to appear here and there overnight; with the harsh winter, the wind must’ve been killing them . . . or so they figured. But _ this, now… _ even with all this wind, they shouldn’t be falling _ straight down, _ should they? Perhaps - more likely their eyes were deceiving them.

They sigh and look towards the woods. From the first day they’d taken up residence in the small, East Coast highway town, they’d been warned to stay away from the woods. The locals seemed to have the impression that something supernatural lived among the dense trees, something _ cryptid _ . Alexei wasn’t sure what to make of it; their own upbringing in Japan gave them insight to a number of superstitions, but as the woods went, they’d never really _ seen _ anything out there before that they hadn't been able to rationalize.

Not until now.

Something shifts in the trees. Alexei steps forward, lips parted, brow drawn, hands clutching for the edges of their blanket. They peer into the dense foliage, attempting to make out any sort of lingering form...

From somewhere beyond their field of vision, a branch shifts again. Then, a twig snaps. The underbrush jostles loose around sudden movement, as a pale, uncanny shape weaves around bushes, vines and arching trunks, sticking close to the forest’s edge enough for its motions to draw their notice-- just enough to catch their eye. 

Something calls to them, closer than before, but not with the same bone-chilling screech of the usual screams, nor the inhuman buzzing. This time, the call is melodic, though tuneless, and pierces through Alexei's ears to caress their very brain, slipping about amongst the grey matter and seeping into their thoughts, deeply enough that it can't be shaken. They take a step forward, and eyes peer cautiously at them from somewhere above the treeline, curious as to their response, ecstatic as it first sees them, _ truly _sees them. The song in their mind seems to urge them closer, into the outermost row of trees, setting them onto a path from which they might be unable to return.

Another bird crashes into the ground, neck broken at the impact, leaking black trails of mutated blood over the ground. Feathers seem to have been plucked straight from its spine, in an unnaturally even line. It blinks up at Alexei with one beady eye, before falling still.

The woods quiet. No movement. No rustling. And then…

_ I... see... you..._

They’re no longer cold. Whatever speaks to them sends a shudder through their body, and without thinking, their blanket drops to the ground. They reach out in confusion, unable to place what they’re seeing. Is there somebody in the woods?

Their legs seem to be moving mechanically, and without any input from Alexei themselves. Another bird crashes to the ground nearby, but this time they can’t be bothered to look at it. They’re enraptured by those _ eyes _.

_ Speak to me again _ , they think. They lick their lips, unthinkingly holding their hand out, their mind filled by want and their thoughts fluttering without direction. _ Speak to me _\--

They stop. Blink rapidly.

(Haven’t they been told not to go towards the woods?)

_ ssssssspeak to me, _ the trees seem to echo, chattering among themselves. _ sssspeak, yesss, yess, come clossssssser. want to… sssee… better. come… _

The leaves rustle again, this time in an attempt to draw them forth, the current of the wind pressing them down and turning their gaze to the forest’s interior. A noise drags across the ground, scraping through dirt and encircling them, though not touching them-- not yet. Alexei is suddenly overcome with the need to shut their eyes. Fear begins to coil around them, permeating their skin and seeping into their lungs. It feels… _ terrifying. _And yet somehow…

_ sssweet… preciousss… my living child… _

_ pleasssse… come to me… let me hold you… let us… _

_ embrace. _

A cold chill pricks at their back, and odd, bony fingertips trail along their spine, up to the nape of their neck. For a moment, as their eyes fall closed against their will, it’s as though they can feel a body before them, pressed against their own, hands around their back and encircling their neck, yearning, though with a chill most odd and disquieting.

When their eyes open, they find, laid in the ground before them, a single, abnormally straight wooden stick. One end is planted firmly in the ground, the other left pointing up at the sky… almost. Where the rest of the stick is vertical, the top has been contorted into a precise angle, pointing at a small gap between two trees, directly into the region of the woods from which the wailing of before had come. The wind stops at once, in a way that's somehow jarring. Slowly, the sky starts to lighten.

Alexei doesn’t feel the cold anymore.

Something in them has changed - morphed into desperation. It’s slowly gnawing at them, the urge to disobey all sense of reason and wander into a place where they shouldn’t. Which is an unquestionably bad idea - they know it is - but the _ desire _ they feel, lingering in the back of their mind . . . it’s too intense to ignore. And it’s _ molten _ between their legs, almost too wet to imagine.

They want to go.

_ Don’t be an idiot _ , they tell themselves. _ Stay away _. 

And with that, they turn back to the path out of the forest, and begin to make their way back to their apartment.

***

They can’t stop thinking about it all day. It nags at the back of their mind like an insect, and though the noises from the woods have stopped, it feels like they’re still echoing inside Alexei's mind. Asking them to return, even pleading for it, urging them to seek out the source of whatever had teased them before. It feels like such a stupid idea - it _ is _a stupid idea - but it doesn’t want to let them go. There’s so much desire in their body that they can’t simply ignore it.

_ Go. Seek. Surrender _ , it begs them. But the woods are dangerous; that, they believe. Yet what if whatever spectre had cast its gaze on them had it in mind to protect them? Though perhaps they were just being tricked? Were they? _ Are they? _

No matter how foolish their curiosity is, by the time the night comes, Alexei has made their mind up. They take a flashlight and throw on a sturdy jacket, and return to the place where they'd felt their longing peak before. The stick is still there, half-stuck in the earth by their feet, the top still bent to point into a gap between two trees. Alexei only stops to question themselves for a moment - shortly after, they steel themselves, raise their head, and follow the rod’s way into the woods.

***

He can _ feel _them.

The energy of the living is so different from his own; warm and thrumming and made of swirls of golden light, flaring red, white and black with the essence of their physicality. Humans are unusual; Venereth has always thought so. Yet their malleability, their want and lust for action and stimulation, are enticing in a way which he cannot begin to describe. It hums inside their cores, and he wishes to feel it, to feel _ all _ of them, slip into their skin and pull them inside-out, strike their nerves and force their lungs to stop, their heart to speed. Yes, humans are so very lovely…

So very _ fragile. _

Tragedy has followed them since he was first gifted the power of their sight; they struggle and suffer and eventually break. Some greet him as a friend. Others fear his essence, and drive themselves mad over the thought of him, cursing and belittling and questioning his reason, threatening to tear him apart and cast him from existence. Oh yes, he's repugnant to some, but he loves them still, his bones that break and blood that spills, for how could he do anything but love those he has been given to love? Those sightless, naive creatures whose breaths and movements he holds and stills, always so _ beautiful… _

_ This one _ is beautiful. He can sense it in their spirit, their skin, their eyes, which wander in the day and search in the night and pierce his own gaze without fear, desperate to hold its attention. He has been watching them for moments, now, or perhaps it has been minutes--longer, as they walk down the path which he laid for them, longer, as they turn their torch just a little _ too _close for his comfort. 

The path comes to a clearing, and ends without warning. They stop, and look about. He waits in the shadows, listening for them… wanting for them, but they cannot see. They are not _ meant _ to see, and he cannot take them as his own, yet. No, their time is later. He must _ wait. _He must…

The path has cut short, and all that’s left is empty clearing. Alexei doesn’t know how to feel about that; they’d come so far in search of something, only to find nothing resembling the expectations that had built in their mind. They almost feel silly for it - until they feel _ it _ again, that press of desperation, of _ longing, _and know that they haven't been misled after all. The hum of their body is real; the fire in their belly, the twitch of their spine. They lick their lips again. Silently, they shut off their torch. Slowly, they place it on the ground.

And then they start with their jacket. Removing it sleeve by sleeve, folding it, laying it on the ground behind them. Then, their shirt; nothing but a loose undershirt beneath it, though when it follows, it is laid down less elegantly than the others. Their shoes are pulled off, and then their socks. Their hands are frantic when it comes to the button and zipper of their jeans, wrestling, forcing fabric down tanned legs. And then their boxers - and removing them makes them shudder, because they’re so soaked it’s embarrassing.

All their clothes go into a pile messier and messier with their desperation. Something here, it - it sings in them, calls to them, so when they fold their legs beneath their body and sit on their heels, they know it’s watching, waiting for them to go still. They close their eyes. They try to let themselves be at peace.

. . . everything is sucked up by that damn, heated _ hum _.

Their clothes are gone.

Their clothes are gone, and now they are sitting, naked, still in their flesh even with the seraphic nectar that spills from them and the divine scent of their heat and need, presented so openly, and without any forewarning. They came to him vulnerable, _ made themselves vulnerable, _ and Venereth, too, feels the desire of their mind, wishes that he could strip free of his flesh and allow his body to respond measure for measure, longing for the thought of their nails and teeth and hidden center, how they could touch him-- how he _ wants _ them to touch him. How he _ craves _ the idea of touching _ them. _

Their back is turned to him, shoulders strong and muscles flexing under the canopy of flesh, sinewy and interconnected, a system of controlled precision hidden inside their mundane nature…

He cannot control the impulse that swarms him when they are _ thinking _ such depravities. Cannot hold himself back, cannot control--the _ fear _which he, himself, is being overtaken by. He is terrified. There is a… pulse in his own being, and an emptiness in them both which must be filled, curdled blood screaming and demanding satiation. 

He _ lunges. _

They don’t expect to be knocked to the ground, and the high _ screeching _ that accompanies it. There’s so much noise, static, glitch, and it surrounds them as they start struggling - and they go limp. There’s a body on theirs, unfamiliar yet recognized, strange yet entirely real, and their eyes have snapped shut but they know it’s safe, _ oh _, it’s so good-

There’s a stripe being licked over their face. They shudder, and lean into it, and bare their neck. Moments later there’s a sharp pain over their pulse, and they cry out. Pushing their body up, hands reaching, feet kicking, all of them wanting this figure over them to take and take and take, and even though the forest should be cold it’s so heated, and _ oh _ . . .

They’re squirming about and grasping at him, tearing, their hands everywhere, touching _ everything, _ and pushing into him--reaching into him--and their _ want… _ it’s melodic, rhythmic, pulling on the very ether that surrounds him and distorting all of the matter and decomposition of his vessel. He can’t escape their hold, but nor can he press as close as his matter demands, and he’s… _ aching. _

He nips at their vessel-flesh, at their jaw and their neck and their shoulder, talon-like nails scoring marks into their arms as he tries to regain any sort of personal control which he might be allowed. His eyes shake and seep loose of his skull, bones twisting and contorting and smacking against each other, hooked about them in some uncertain, mangled attempt at feigning humanity. His tongue laves over their cheek, tasting their flesh, their essence seeping into his tongue and heating his insides--

_ yessss, yessss _

_ closer now _

_ keep closer _

_ want to… feel… _

_ ssssso perfect… _

_ darling... _

_ my... darling… lovely human… so… ALIVE _

_ let me feel you… _

_ let me… _

_ taste. _

There’s so much going on inside their head that it’s driving them mad. Alexei writhes, shrieks, cries like the voices in their mind are tearing them apart. Their thighs are spreading wide, the whole of them desperate for any kind of touch: the texture of lips upon their jaw, the cool drizzle of saliva against their skin, the claws being dug into their back . . . all of it is so intensely surreal that they can’t think, can’t breathe, their back’s arching and creaking from how much _ tension _ is coiling through their entire form.

“H- Wh- Haah-” their tongue’s failing them, their voice is gone - they can’t seem to get out anything other than staccatoed moans and long whines as their bodies collide. This . . . beast - no, this _ specimen _ , this utterly erotic being, they don’t know what he is, but they want to _ pleasure _ him, make him feel, draw out his soul on their fingertips and fuck him with it, or better yet let him fuck their own soul in time -

“Sh-Show me,” they gasp - nearly growl - eyes pinned shut, body roiling. A sharp beacon of pleasure shoots through them, and they moan as their body arches and rolls again. _ Show me. Take me. I want to feel everything. I feel so alive. _

_ sssshow? _ He questions, unsure of what they mean. The buzzing quells, and his bones slacken, less dense and more porous, growing weaker with the force of his confusion. He leans over them, placed the underside of his tongue flat on their cheek, tracing their jaw almost considerately. Black, abyssal pools gaze into them, his void-eyes taking in the swarm that creates their being, atoms and molecules and elements which he has never needed for sustenance. These living creatures and their flesh-sacks and bloody-floods hidden under their skin prove unreliable in their autonomy. So many methods for their failure… for their physical degradation, and he _ knows. _Oh, he knows.

He tilts his head, neck left at an improper angle, impossible for any living creature to maintain, as he casually drags a nail down their torso… a black pseudo-talon flicks at the swollen, warm rosebud of flesh between their slick folds, the place where he touches burning so _ hot, _ it’s soul-shattering. His hand seizes them by the neck, pallid flesh and protruding lines of black beneath it a stark contrast to their own tan, their own red blood, their own _ construction. _

_ ... strange… _

He presses his face into their hair, slipping loose of the void and receding back into his most comfortable shape, grotesque as it may be when covered with shallow, drained wounds and rotting, open gashes. His bones are jutting, chest and hips over-defined and emaciated, eyelids removed just as what would have been between his thighs, had he been truly human. Their own burns so hot, and he’s nearly envious of it… enamored with it, and his fingers run along that soft, oversensitive matter to take in more of their fluids, too-long, dry and swollen tongue lapping it off of his own fingers.

_ oh... youuu… taste… _

_ ssso ssssplendid…. _

His eyes lose their last vestiges of ethereal corruption, the grey color of his dead irises more human, but still unpleasant. He gathers them closer, face pushing into their neck, inhaling their welcoming soul as it screams to him.

_ what do you want, dearest human? darling... small one, sssso warm… ssso confident… curious… you do not seem… sssscared… _

_ ask of me… anything… _

_ tell me… telllllll… _

Their eyes flicker open, and they gasp. The sight is . . . monstrous- decaying matter laced over bones, mimicry of muscle and fat, bent and shaped together like an utterly broken thing. Like a smashed stag, or a _ wendigo _, eyes leaking out of its misshapen skull, tongue a long strand of pinkish-grey, and Alexei . . .

Alexei _ loves _it just as much as they fear it.

Their body’s high off of the sight, jittering, shaking, and they reach up and hold on tighter. Their thighs are so open, and stammering from their need; they want him to _ touch them _ , make them feel, their whole body is screaming for it, they want, they want they want they want they _ want _ . . .

_ Touch. I want- touch, _ touch _ , I want touch, touch me, please, touch me, damn me, take me- I can’t take this anymore, I’ve been waiting, I’ve waited all day, I came to you, I want you, take what you want of me _-

_ touch… _

_ you… want… _

_ …… i…. i would assssk… ssssomething too… _

The darkness around them appears to be suddenly _ alive, _ or if nothing else, animated, and it comes to them in a rush, slipping to the place between their legs and their open mouth, still panting and heaving for breath, moulding itself to their skin and drinking them in, taking them as they’d demanded, pushing inside everywhere that they might be pushed inside of. It twists and spasms and moves in tendrils, first into their center, piercing their core and invading their cunt, then down their throat, filling their windpipe. The pressure expands, leaving them tingling, filling them out to the tips of their fingers and the ends of their toes. They shudder, and buck upward and arch into the void as they’re fully subsumed into Death’s embrace, made _ whole _with the contact and the penetration and the spinning of their head as he pushes into their skull as well, winds through every nerve and every system, playing with the frayed and open ends of them which yearn for stimulation. 

_ touch… _

_ touch… _

_ touch… _

It sounds as if the voice is teasing them, now, and it trills, loudly, as he emits a hum of pleased acknowledgement through their skull, then opens the maw of his mouth between his full lips and unhinged jaw to let forth another wail, a sonorous wind-carried moan that floats over the both of them and fills the air with glorious sound, the voice of _ amusement, _jovial as it somehow is.

Not full of pleasure, but most certainly _ pleased. _The darkness withdraws and then stuffs them full again, opens them up, stretching them past their limits and running them through. Their body arches away from the dirt and their knees buckle, crying out as they’re pushed to the edge of the most intense and woeful of pleasures, and brought back quivering, dropped to the ground to languish, boneless and compliant as it withdraws again.

_ is thissss…. ssssssatisfactory…? _

_ i have never met one… ssso ssstrange… i must know… how you are called... _

They’re dizzy, high off of it, head clouded, everything feeling so viscerally _ empty _ when the darkness had been splitting them apart. They can hardly breathe, though they take sucking breaths that shake their entire body. Even their cunt is spoiled from it, so short, beginning to pulse around its emptiness and _ squelching _ as it tries to find something to grab onto. They cry out, and they’re shocked to find tears on their face, from pleasure and from the pain.

“_ Alexei _ ,” they moan as they try to let their body come down. Their hands grab further onto the creature, regardless of the seeming rot that seems to run through its body. “How do I . . . oh, _ fuck _, oh Death, oh . . . oh . . .”

Their legs kick against the ground, and the drool is being wiped from their lips, and they are nothing but vibrating nerve-endings and a dizzying sense of human awareness.

The creature at their side trills again, but this time in confusion, watching them in relative silence save for his endless shaking each time their skin meets his matter. His eyes roll in his head as he touches their face, reverent, surprisingly gentle. 

_ Alexei. _

It seems, somehow, as if he might be smiling.

_ you are… unsatisfied. you askkkkk… more... of me? _

_ tell me… what you… dessssire… _

_ More _ , they beg, mindless, chest still heaving. _ I always- I’m always so- insatiable _-

The darkness fills their lungs and their cunt the same. They scream. Everything’s muffled out, but the screaming and moaning seems to get louder in their ears, and they can feel the darkness penetrating under their rolling eyes, into their ears, sinking into their brain. Their body lurches, and their legs shove out only to be spread apart by the growing darkness between their legs, fucking them, stretching them, pulling apart their needy hole and slipping down to push deeper into their other entrance. Their screaming is getting louder, _ louder _, and their head is so light yet so heavy, and their vision is fuzzy . . .

The darkness pulls back from their throat, and they let out a breathless screech as their lungs fill with air, but their every other orifice fills further with darkness, further, sinking deeper into them, violating them, even breaching the tiny barrier in their cunt and pushing out, and they look down and gasp and cry and see the distension of their stomach, the bulge of his energy pushing into them, and _ oh, Death, I can’t think, fuck, fuck, yes, fuck me, yes, yes! _

The black of his energy twists around their legs and grips them, keeping them still as they’re fucked into, harder and rougher and over again, each thrust pressing deeper, expanding to stretch them wide and condensing to let their juices spill from them and leak down their legs. Their skin is painted in trails of slick; their come, their blood, their saliva streaking their cheeks, tears seeping from their eyes. Their back slams against the ground as they tremble, clamp tightly to the invading pulse of darkness, throbbing in them well past their center. Not simply in their cunt, but their womb, their colon, their intestines, snaking through every inch of their being to make them fuller than they’ve ever imagined being. 

Their orgasm is worked out of them from within each cell of their matter, as the void fills their throat again and penetrates their heart at the same time the matter in their widened holes punches into them, shoving up and up and _ up, _and they let loose again with a cry, the squelch and slide of their fluids being drained from them and played with overwhelmingly loud. The void withdraws once more to let them breathe, but does not let up between their legs, teasing and twisting at the nub of their clit, curling and drilling into them, with one intrusion, then multiple, then one again, making them feel for all the world as though they’re being obliterated, though the energy itself and their own body are in no way extraordinary.

Death seals his mouth over their own, licks into it, pulls the breath from their lungs and releases it to them once more, then retreats. Their hands reach for him and he watches, confused, surprised, unable to fathom what they might be _ doing, _this unusual human with their unusual feelings and reaction to his presence.

Their entire body’s being toyed with, filled, insides screaming at the intrusion but alight at the way he fills their cunt and their ass and their head. Even their own noises are almost inhuman, nothing but near screams, unable to fully express the ruination of their body. Their fingers are twitching around the creature's back, and their eyes are rolling lazily between its face, the forest floor, and the protrusion of their own stretched, bloated lower body.

This creature is so stunning, so reviling, so - _ erotic _ . Their body’s humming, and they open their mouth to ask something, only for the obliteration of their lower half to sing again. Unwittingly they begin to cry once more, tears spilling faster down their cheeks. Their cunt squeezes down upon the darkness the same as their entrance, and they’re nearly entirely ruined like this, but it’s so good, so, so good, they _ need this _, they need . . .

_ How do you- oh- anything. Tell me anything, I’ll obey, I will, I’ll do anything . . . _

Their legs are released again, this time more sharply than before, his hands coming up to run along the curve of their hips and down their legs, skin indenting without tearing at the pressing movement. He isn’t looking at them anymore, even as the void shoves into them once more and aims directly at the spot that makes them shake and cry and call out in the way they had before, needy and lustful and with the barest twinge of horror. 

The voice falls quiet. 

_ ...do not... want... obedience… _

The darkness subsides, withdrawing from the rest of their body, left only in their lower holes, still pulsating slightly, but slowed, preparing to withdraw soon, for as much as the human twitches and spasms through aftershocks of their lust. Death looks at them, as though contemplating, without speaking. Then, his eyes close, and he makes to place a bit of distance between them.

… _ perhapssss… that form will be… _

_ more… palatable to your kind. _

_ yesss… _

_ i do feel… _

_ it will. _

_ I am not- a-afraid- _ their eyes are filled with so much haze, the same as their lungs. Their whole body feels so strung out, purged from the inside out. They can feel everything, even the throbbing of their womb, still stretched and pressing against the inside of their skin. Their hands reach up; they shake, but don't pull back from him as their fingers begin to explore along the marred flesh of his shoulders, collar, jawline… They look into crushed eyes, tongue pressed against their lower lip, breath heavy.

_ You are . . . Death himself, and you are beautiful. My body- oh, it knows you, it- haaah . . . I saw you. Before _-

Darkness is dripping out of their pussy, down their legs, and they go limp and shivering against the ground. Any cold from the outside world is entirely absent.

_ Your form . . . how . . .? _

_ do not… askkk… _

Fingers press against the corners of their eyes, coaxing their lids down until their gaze is shrouded, their view left to total shadow, not unlike the rest of their being. The darkness inside them curls about once more, touching all that it can, before finally slipping free. His being disentangles from their own, settling at their side in the dirt, hand braced over theirs, effort fully retracting his claws and adding to the texture of his flesh.

This time, he speaks aloud, though his voice is raw and hoarse, still humming with glitch and static. 

_ "Open." _

They do. And what they see before them is not the same cryptid creature of before - not tangled muscle, not bone, not rotting flesh. No, what they see before them is a _ man _ . Clearly not mortal, clearly not _ human _, with his visage so pale his skin seems to glow. But his hair is messy, and a white-grey, almost a sickening twist on precious silver. His eyes are the same, nearly human and yet too strange to be anything but alien - over his naked body, black lines of veins run through, a suggestion of his ichorous blood. He’s both light and dark at once, though the dark seems to win him over, cull in him further than any light does. There’s no denying the call of his title - Death, Himself.

One of his hands lies in theirs, and they find themselves squeezing it. It’s almost eerily cold, but that doesn’t bother them, not now. They slowly try to roll onto their side to face him, like he’s facing them; they’re silent. They’re still panting, and they don’t trust their voice to work even as well as his.

His hand does not squeeze theirs back, remaining limp in their grasp, though his fingers twine about their own and hold onto their offered appendage with clear admiration, unspoken enjoyment of their proximity. He does not move, otherwise, and seems unsure of how to use his own words, carefully attempting to navigate the situation.

_ ... perhapssss… next… iffff you will… _

_but now… fffor now… _

_ exhaustion takes you, ssssweet… _

**"Rest."**

***

They wake up in their bed, to the sun in their face and their blankets bundled close around their body, birds chirping somewhere in the distance beyond their window.

It’s morning; their mind’s still reeling from the chaos of the night before, so much so that Alexei can hardly imagine the creature - Death - wasn't simply a dream. For a while, they're almost certain that's all it was, too. They turn onto their side to face the window, smiling a bit when they notice the sky is bright - a nice, early spring day. They push the blankets away from their body, stretching as they first sit up, then make to stand. 

_ Weird dream_, they think. _ Oddly hot_.

And then their insides churn and they realize.

It was _ real._

Once they take care of their aching gut, they leave the bathroom and look outside. Everything seems normal - no more birds, no more stake, no more mist. Just a typical day outside. If it weren't for all the aching, they’d be convinced.

But it had happened. They’d been fucked by _ Death _ . And what’s more, he’d wanted a _ next time_.

Alexei pauses and taps their finger to their lips. It had been . . . surprisingly good. The arousal all through the day, the romp into the woods. And the darkness that had ravaged them so entirely. That's something they know they'll _ never _ forget. 

Death . . . Death will be back. They know it.

And next time, they're going to return the favor.


	2. Chapter 2

ii.

  
  


He never grew tired of stealing last breaths.

To Venereth, each last breath was a timeless gift: fleeting for an individual, but so full of _ warmth-- _ sustaining and empowering and _ nourishing, _as if he’d taken a bite from the heart of a human itself, rather than simply pulling the final vestiges of strength from their lungs. Some of them begged, some plead, some screamed and fought against it, desperate to hurt him with their scalding words and their useless, subsentient hands. 

Some called him ‘demon,' ‘evil,' 'monster.’ Typically, he did not care for that sort; the ones who clung to their faith as though it were a weapon, as though they truly believed _ prayer _ could save them from their penultimate fate, the same fate which _ every _living creature was destined to share.

(He supposes, long ago, that he might have believed the same--but humanity is something beyond his comprehension, now. His years as human were stolen from him long ago. Whoever he was… whatever he was… ceased to matter when the first vessel had died.)

Some humans embraced him. Some even _ kissed _ him. Many longed for him to grant their wishes and ease their sorrows, pleading with him to keep them company, as a mother or brother or lover might. Venereth did not mind indulging them at times--he often stayed with the lonely, because some shifting part of his matter _ weeped _for them. For their melancholy and their memories, the anguish of being doomed to a forgotten end. He could make it gentle, in those cases; bless the dying a simple kiss, considerate, even benevolent.

Death could be _ kind. _

This one had twisted at him, and he slept at her side through the night, arms around her, face pressed to her hair. She did not cry when she saw him, and nor did she scream, the black surge of energy over his ghostly, skeletal figure, rotting in whatever flesh he had and faceless with shroud, did not seem to give her even the slightest trace of fear. At least, she had not _ acted _ fearful… that strength of character was rarely found in humans. He _ admired _it.

There was only one other whom he had felt no fear from. Only one, whose reaction to his being had been so utterly unimaginable that Venereth _ himself _found his vessel pausing with uncertainty.

_ Alexei. _

He did not take the names of the living. They were not, per se, his to know. That he had felt compelled to ask theirs spoke volumes, and moreso, it was nearly taboo. His sort were not meant to want. Want was _ improper, _ the most depraved of feelings for one who was Death to hold. They had _ corrupted _him.

_ no matter no matter no matter no matter _

_ … grey matter, in matter, likes matter… _

Ah, yes. And therein lies the problem. 

He gently kisses the cheek of the corpse, now still and slowly losing its warmth in his arms. His task is over, here.

There are other places where he is needed.

***

“Ah, fuck me!” they curse as their eyes stick to the pan and stubbornly refuse to let go. They’d tried so hard to make these eggs right, but for some reason it just wasn’t coming together today! Why? They sigh and grab their spatula, and walk over to the trash can to scrape their burnt eggs away. _ I guess it’s gonna be cereal today _, they think.

Alexei sighs, and looks out the window. A misty day - but no screams to be heard. That’s disappointing. Every time a foggy or even an overcast day came, they prayed and hoped for _ him _ to return, but nothing had happened so far. It’d been months. And maybe they shouldn’t be so needy and obsessive when it’s about - well - _ Death _ (the man - no - Death had to be busy), but every time they thought of the way they’d been toyed with, pried open and apart, filled so much they couldn’t even breathe . . .

Well, it was a tempting memory at the least. To be honest, they're a bit disappointed that it hadn’t happened again. Without the possibility of Death's return, dwelling in their thoughts feels rather fruitless. They’re about ready to just forget it and make a new batch of eggs-

-and then they blink.

_ There’s a rod outside my window. _

Alexei nearly drops their pan on the floor in their haste to rush into the street.

They’ve barely stepped outside when the first bird hits.

The dead creature collapses in a heap at their feet. It had smashed into their window and fallen in a tangle of limbs to the ground, nearly smacking them in the head for how quickly they’d seemed to run out their door. Their eyes look toward the sky.

Another bird careens sideways and crashes headfirst into a tree off to the side of the dirt road leading past their apartment building and out of town. From somewhere among the brush, Alexei can swear a pair of void-like eyes are blinking at them.

There’s a rustle, and then, at long last, a _ scream. _

_ He’s back_! They immediately want to throw off everything like they had before and rush into the woods - would, if they had less restraint. _ All of town would see! _ They think, but they’re motionless, staring at the void-filled eyes in the distance, wanting desperately to rush back to him and into his fold.

Because it had been _ insane _. Body filled to its max, heat drawn out, fucked by the very darkness that surrounded him, holding the hand of Death himself. Because they remember well what it was like - dreamed about it every night. They’d waited for him to come back, wondered if the arousal of before would come again.

And it _ has _ . Wetness begins to seep from them, and spill down their leg so quickly it slips to their knocking knees. They can feel heat on the back of their neck, and fingers pressing gently into their nape. Fingers _ teasing. _

They want to fall back into his embrace.

_ I can’t _ , they think. _ Not in broad daylight. And not like before. He’d said next time he wanted more, and I want to return the favor. Fuck Death - literally. The question is how. _

Well... that would be a question he could help answer, wouldn’t it? They level their gaze with him and nod. They understand well enough what his return meant, what his show meant. They just had to listen to a where and when.

_ I’m ready for you _ , they tell him, fingers folding together in a show of nerves. _ Back in the woods again? Tonight? _

The eyes fade from view one at a time. More rustling. Somewhere in the distance, a weeping starts to echo; further away this time, and growing further away by the second. Distant, secluded--drawing back until the cries began to seem more melodic than agonized. _ Safe. _

A sound carries to them on the wind. Not an answer. With Death, it's never an answer. But still, it carries--still, it sings.

_ … find… me… _

***

They don’t feel the chill of the late summer night as they scramble over roots and further into the woods. They don’t have time to; their heart's been pounding all day, waiting, eager to see him again. Eager to feel what they had before, and eager to return the favor. It wasn’t every day you got a date with Death, after all, and Alexei wants to make the most of it after so much time away. Death had to be busy, always, but now Death gets to be _ theirs _, if just for a little while.

A small part of them wonders if it’s . . . disturbing, how much they like this. And in a way, they suppose it is - morbid, bizarre. But Death does not reek of the dead, or at least not of a normal kind of dead. He is . . . supernatural, closer to a god than a corpse. And while they hadn’t minded his first form, monstrous as it had been . . .

Still. Whatever it was, it makes fires run through their veins, and that’s not something they can just write off.

They stop in another small clearing - the path ends there. They look around, but Death isn’t there yet; probably watching them, for all they think. Should they disrobe now? _ I want to _ , they think, and nearly grab at their clothes. But they wait. They’re going to _ be patient _as they wait for Death to arrive. And then they’re going to figure out how to give him what he wants.

The buzzing noise begins somewhere behind them, darkness clouding the open space of the clearing and filling it with the familiar, alien-esque static of Death’s presence. A gust of wind barrels past them, nearly knocking Alexei back in the process, as shadowy lines run over the ground, looping through the path’s end and down to a small, rocky alcove just beyond the forest oasis.

A cave lies at the bottom. The entrance isn’t large, but it’s certainly big enough for a single person to climb down into, and oddly illuminated. There's a strange stone which surrounds the entrance that seems to be glowing, by some unknown supernatural force or perhaps by enchantment. A sighing sound bubbles up from within as Alexei begins to move closer; when their foot nudges against a rock, the sigh sharpens and expands into a moan, a moan which then spirals out of control until the haunting wail of two months prior sounds at their side, carrying down into the darkness.

  
  


_ come... inside… _

_ with me… be… with… _

The moaning sends a shiver down Alexei’s back, and again they find themselves clutching at their clothes, desperate to have them off. But they’re going to wait; they’re going to try to be patient, much as they long to just throw themselves at Death and let him take them (not . . . in that way). Still, as they slip into the cave they’re taken in by the aura inside; the whole place seems nearly mystical. Rocks and crystal formations make up the walls and the ceiling; there’s some kind of pool that looks dangerously toxic within, but other than that, it’s sparse. Alex looks around. Wasn’t a ton for the imagination, but . . .

“It’s beautiful,” they say, eyes captivated. _ And it’ll be more beautiful when we’re joined together and dizzy with heat _.

A hum carries out from the dark at their back, reverberating through their bones and sliding under their skin, nearly shaking their flesh away from their bones. It takes a moment for them to realize what exactly the vibrating thrum must be, ringing with noise as it is.

_ He’s laughing. _

Death’s arms--surprisingly human looking, as most of his second form seemed to be, but still drained of all color save for black veins which ran like ink through his paper-colored flesh-- wrap around their waist from behind. Something presses against their shoulder for a moment, before teeth nip at their arm, as teasing as they seem to be needful.

_ pleased… ssssso… pleasssed to have you… _

They shudder. Their head tilts back, and their lips part as they let out a soft breath. He’s pressed to their back - he feels like void, like nothing, but it’s everything when they’re in this ethereal place, someplace between the living and the dead. It makes them feel so alive. They crave it, savour it, feel it so intensely that it makes heat drip further down their legs again. It’s maddening.

They can’t stand it anymore - they need their clothes off, they have to be naked, they have to be exposed to him, the urge to reveal themself overwhelming any semblance of rationality their mind still held. Their eyes stay closed as they turn in his embrace, and their fingers are finding the hem of their shirt before they're even aware of their own movement. They tear the fabric over their head and fling it away - wherever it goes, Alexei isn't sure, and doesn't particularly care. They unbutton their jeans and wrestle them off, and the moment their body’s bare they’re sliding a hand to press against their mound, whimpering, knees locked, head bowed forward before Death.

“I’ve . . . missed . . .”

Death watches them with piercing eyes as they begin to free themselves of their clothing once again, hyper-aware of how their arousal is growing by the moment, the scent of them so strong that even one made as he is can scent it in his head. Alexei is bare before his eyes manage to leave their face, fingers creeping down to that soft, hot place where they leaked so wonderfully last time, where they’d let him feed to excess off of their energy.

He pulls away. Takes a step back, limbs hanging too loose, even in this near-human form, and body swaying as he moves, oddly willowy for how much power his vessel holds. Their head is bowed just so, and he finds himself offput by it--loathing it-- roiling in pain with it. 

He shakes his head, flicking their chin back up with the darkness and crossing his arms, one foot tapping against the ground. Almost as though he’s… irritated? Impatient? Something of the sort; yet though his expression seems indifferent as ever, his dead eyes seem to gain renewed livelihood when they look into Alexei’s.

“...you rest… well? Appear… _ sssso lovely… _my human… my Alexei…”

They shut their eyes and bite their lip; even his voice is intoxicating after so long. They pull in a harsh breath. Hadn’t they been planning on satisfying him this time? Alexei takes a deep breath, trying to master their arousal as best they can - but it feels so _ impossible _ in this place, where everything screams of the supernatural, and they can’t escape the vitality of their own flesh. They swallow down the lump in their throat.

“You . . . want to know how I am?” they ask. They try to project their answer to his mind. _ Well. Studies are good. Sleeping well. Every night I dream of that time in the woods. I’ve never felt so _ full _ . And I want to know how to . . . to satisfy you. _

Another sound below their frequency of hearing pulses through the floor, into their feet and the cavern’s walls. The shake of it as it fades in and out of the rock and their own skeleton seems oddly empty, too composed, too false. Death presses his legs to each other, the flesh sticking where his thighs hit, just as his arms seem to stick to the place where they’ve crossed over his chest. He bites his lip with teeth too sharp to be anything but monstrous, eyes flashing black as a rumble begins in his throat. The pitch builds until it is nearly a purr, and he turns from them, casting a glance over his shoulder to see if they’ve reacted at all. He stretches his arms out over his head, cracks his shoulderblades and arches the regal curve of his spine, drawn inward by the force of his flexibility. After a moment, he raises a brow at them, questioning, before turning to walk into the darkness, the expectation for them to follow clearly laid in place.

_ good... you sound well… healthhhh… _

_ longed for… sssuch strength. _

_ Beautiful. _

_ yet comes to me… _

_ searchessss? and… _

_ asks such… ssstrange things, Alexei… _

_ i have wanted… _

_ crave you. _

Their breath is echoing around in the small cavern, all too loud in their ears. Alexei’s nearly salivating, too; they try to swallow down their nerves, but to no avail. Death seems so regal, now, when before they’d just been two bodies, two forms rutting against one another, consumed with lust. Not that Alexei isn’t feeling it now, the way their slick seems to drip down the inside of their legs. Their legs move together fluidly as a result. It’s maddening to think of.

_ I’ve craved you just as well _ , they admit, coloring. _ I . . . want. I can’t stop myself from wanting. And to know you’ve been thinking of me as well . . . _ they gulp. _ I’ve waited. Wanted to be with you again - no human would be able to satisfy me now. Just . . . you. _

Chortles of faux laughter wane in the walls, growing silent. The caverns sit, taciturn, but chilly enough to steal heat from their flesh more and more by the moment. The further in they walk, the more unnatural the beauty of their surroundings seems to be--ground growing more pale with its lack of nutrients, the rock looking more decayed and brittle around them.

There is a stone, nearly squared at the edges, and oblong in shape, in this area. Bones litter the floor, and the ground holds splotches of black across the otherwise colorless surface. Death smiles, and cocks his head to one side, scrutinizing them. Then, he slowly pushes himself back onto the rock, until he's lying flat atop the stone dais, never letting his face turn from Alexei, not even attempting to look away.

_ yessss, sweet… you… _

_ want you… but… _

_ i am not allowed… it isss… forbid to me… _

_ i have damned us both… _

_ taboo, to claim names… before life… _

_ sssstill... perhaps… _

_ i give a gift… trade for trade… _

_ please me and you will earn _ ** _my _ ** _ name. _

“Your name?” they ask. He doesn’t answer; seems that whatever he's saying is the truth, cryptic though it remains. They bite their lower lip and worry at it, bringing blood flush to the surface, teasing it until it’s red. Alexei steps forward, slowly increasing the pace of their steps until they’ve reached the dais' edge. They lean carefully over him, straddling his body until they’re looking down at his face.

“H-How do I please you, then?” they ask. Their hand comes to his bare clavicle, and they stroke their fingers along his sternum. Up and down, gentle against the strange skin, tracing the inhuman lines of his veins. Alexei's fingers graze the bare flesh of his throat, too pale to seem real, before dipping back down, trailing lower and lower, past the faint indent of what would be his navel. Then, their thumb brushes at the skin above his groin. They resist the temptation to touch outright.

_ I want this to be good _ , they tell him. _ How do I satisfy Death? _

Death’s tongue slips out from between his lips to trace the brittle flesh of his human-like skin. His nails scrape over the rock, flesh pulling away from the ends of his fingers. The skin is left sore and raw, partially ripped down to the layers beneath. Alexei's fingers feel so _ warm _ over his body… brimming with their arousal… their energy, and he _ craves _ it. Yes, yes he does, needs it as they need air, for life, for _ survival… _

_ give... _he whispers to them, caressing their mind through their skull, fingers in their throat and pressing at their tongue, the bumps and ridges of their palate. He slides further into their head, pushing at a lit nerve to make them gush a little more, enough for their knees to jerk and their entire figure to stumble forward, nearly atop him.

_ give... and take… _

_ equal. we are… _

_ equalsss. _

He parts his thighs and grabs their hand before they can protest, pressing it to the groin they were so reluctant to touch before, inhuman breaths distorting the space at their ears as he pants for breath and reaches up for them. 

_ you give… me… pain… pleasure… secrets… _

_ let me… taste. blood… and… energy… _

_ wear me down… hurt. break... fuck… all of it. i have endured all… _

_ depravitiessss. _

_ when you finishhh… tttthhhen. i take your energy. _

_ you earn the name of a deity. _

They’re not sure that answers their question, but if he was going to be mysterious about it, then they suppose they might as well go ahead and figure out the answer themselves. They lean over him and down, until their breath’s teasing at his ear; their fingers find their way to his cock easily, standing proud between his legs. Their fingertips leave gentle strokes, mimicry of actual fucking, and that seems to make him eager. Their other hand finds his hip, and pulls him closer so their hips are flush.

“Death is a deity, then . . .” Alexei breathes as their lower halves press together, and they grind down against him. They reach up and fist his hair as they move together for a moment, testing, seeking, leaving them dizzy in the same way they hoped he was - if he could feel it. “You’re a force of nature, but deity is a surprise. Though I sup-pose I had Izanami . . .!”

_ my status as deity is… perversion… _

_ but. that issss… different… not a tale to… share… _

He’s quivering, nearly squirming, back curved away from the rock and rear pressed rough against it, hips practically cracking with how frantically he seems to move under their touch. He’s nearly surprised when they straddle him, and press their lower bodies close together, fingers tangled in his hair and pulling on the strands, nearly dislodging them from his head - one of the effects of maintaining the brittle fabrication of a human body. His hands find their shouders, nails scoring over them and down through their upper chest, across their sides, urging them forth.

Their hips push together and his throat screeches. 

_ i have never been so… undone? _

_ what you and i share… _

_ it isss… _

_ Beyond. _

_ yet for me… i want ssso much… _

_ more. want to feel you… _

_ as you felt me… if you… will not reject my wishes, sssweet… _

Alexei can’t stop panting into his ear, hips rutting, fingers tense. They pull on his hair hard enough to make it hurt, shifting to ride his hips until they’re moaning low in their throat. He feels so real, so much like a human, but so impossibly_ alien _at the same time - his entire aura is different, overpowering, surreal, insane. Just feeling it’s driving them mad, and their hands slip between their bodies to touch him - all over, everywhere, anywhere, they want to feel so much of him.

Their moan comes out choked and desperate. _ Yes, _ they gasp. _ Whatever you want, however I can sate you, take you, fuck you… I’ve wanted this for so long. I want to feel, I want to know. I want _ ** _you. _ ** _ I can hardly even think straight... _

His head is yanked upward, throat exposed and mouth hanging open, jaw slack and shifted too far right, a click sounding from it as Alexei tugs on his hair again. His hips rut forward instinctively, the edge of his stiffened cock pressing against the slick essence of their dripping orifice, nudging against their clit and sliding against their vulva so intimately that they nearly drop their position over him. Death strains to remember how to think, tossing his head back and forth, legs kicking out as his ankles twist and rehook in place, for as much as they may wish to leave.

He clings to their back, face shoved into their shoulder, claws tearing vicious, careless wounds into their back. He can sense… can feel… no, he _ demands… _

_ satiation. desperate. _

They do not seem to understand. So he grasps at their hand and pulls it to his own throat to push in as far as can go, knee digging into their hip as he turns his hips upward and thrashes, angered.

_ want you want you want you _

_ want to sense… need inside… _

_ need you to fill me… _

_ …. absorb you into my flesh… _

_ … keep. use anything. use everything…. and keep… _

_ keep _ ** _touchingggg…._ **

Alexei pushes down on his windpipe until his body seems depraved of oxygen; he spasms, shakes, form flailing and slipping into different shades of color as he kicks, like it’s trying to push them off. They lock their knees around his waist and grind down harder. They’re gasping . . . If they shifted just a little, he could be inside them, filling them, though perhaps not as much as the darkness had . . .

Their free hand presses down his body, across his waist, then behind their bodies, reaching down until they can feel along his cheeks and find his entrance. They have nothing to ease the way; as it is, they find themselves massaging the puckered rim, pulling it and squeezing it apart, until it seems to almost kiss at their fingers - desperate for the filling.

“I can fill you,” they tell him, breathless, grinning. “I just need something to open you with.”

He trembles, and thrusts his hips upward thrice more, rutting into sweet, slick space between their folds with the head of his dick pushing just so against their opening, dribbling a slick liquid that seems strangely aromatic. His nails, jet and curved as they are, slip into the talons of his second state, hooking around their unmarked biceps, piercing, threatening.

A sound escapes his throat, something between pleading and demanding, and Death’s body seems to contort more dramatically as he pulls at their shoulders, head slamming against the rock and shoulders squared back while he tries to get his legs around their body, so much more muscled and unusually sculpted than his own. As if responding to their question, black fluid begins to coalesce around their questing fingers, leaking over their hand, down to their wrist.

_ yesss… open… i will be… ssso good…? _

Alexei doesn’t hesitate in sinking one, then two digits into his hole, which clenches around their fingers so tightly it’s as if he’d never been taken before. And their cores are rubbing against one another so splendidly - they tilt their head back and moan, gyrating, pressing, their pussy going tight at the idea of getting him inside . . . but not yet. They still want _ more _.

“You’re _ so good _,” they moan in reply as their legs go tense. They press out another moan between bitten lips, and their hips roll more uncertainly, beginning to be lost to a sense of pleasure they so rarely knew. Their other hand is still against his throat, constricting his air; they let up just a little bit, the reminder heavy on his throat, and they give him a foggy grin. “You like this? You like it when I’m on top of you?”

Bitten off moans and glitched cries pass through the hollow tube of Death’s fabricated throat, up through his lips, the flesh of his neck concave under their constricting hold, retreating as they push into him with a greater energy than before, enough that when they let up he’s nearly disappointed. He shrieks in his usual thrumming-humming pattern, contorting the darkness around them both and closing it in around their bodies, Alexei’s own forced to press close to his, to _ stay _beside him, lest the abyss swallow them up otherwise. 

_ … like… _

_ … like it… _

More of the pitchlike substance escapes his fluttering hole, clenching tight about their fingers and shifting in infrequent, vibrating motions against the intrusion of their digits. A shadowy tendril creeps up their thigh, curling around their leg and slithering toward their cunt with a clear goal, prodding at their lips and flicking against their clit, then gently probing apart the soaked ring of their hole, asking for entrance. Death’s own longing chasm quivers around their fingers again, trying to pull their fingers deeper--their entire hand, if possible, for as thirsty as he seems to be, thrusting his hips forward again while his darkness sinks back into their body, a welcome friend missed for too long.

_ give... give me… _

_ ...give me… _

_ MORE? _

He seizes them suddenly as the void begins to fill them again, seeping into their skin as it leaks from his own, so overcome by the force of his desire that he cannot comprehend it, cannot think of _ anything _ beyond want--need-- _ more-- _

“... A-Alexei…?”

They’re screaming, gargling around the darkness plunged into their throat, the void stuffing itself into their ass and their cunt, lost to the way it slithers into every open part of their body and sinks in. They’re so full, so sudden, they nearly forget themselves entirely - but they can’t see, and can hardly feel when they’re feeling _ everything _, so full in so many untouched places it’s insanity to bear.

There’s only a respite from the darkness in their lungs that they’re cursing, crying out, tears pouring down their cheeks before it invades their throat again, and their body goes tight around the invasion of their lower half. They can feel the darkness spreading them open, bludgeoning the ring of their cervix until it split into their womb, filling them in the most peculiar way that it’s almost too pleasurable to bear. It’s the same in their ass, darkness slithering up through empty intestine, drawing them apart - and then sinking into their _ stomach _ , so much that when they get a moment to breathe they look down and it’s all _ bloated out _ like a small barrel in their gut.

“Oh, _ fuck _ , Death-” they cry out as everything seems to _ expand _ , and they grind down on the darkness and against his dick and their own hand while it pushes tighter into him, three and then four fingers, only obstructed by angle, but _ oh, fuck, fuck me, let me fuck you, it’s so much, so . . . _!

It surges forth and slams into them again, springing out from where it’s permeated their stomach and stuffed itself inside their swollen cunt and clenching ass, twisting into them and pressing against everything there is to be found, so alive that it’s _ static _ inside them, the same ebb and flow of energy that distorts his voice, now so pressing it’s causing their insides to shake and vibrate and join the same hum of existential longing the caverns are filled with. They jolt forward, and then back, being nearly tossed about by the stretching abyss, ever expanding, ever encompassing. It’s inside their eyelids and chilling their heart, their fluids running from their twitching holes cold, then hot, then cold again. Light fills their head as a chord is played in their mind, and their screams echo distantly, beyond their own hearing. Everything seems to feel purely like _ pleasure. _Nothing but pleasure, seizing hold of them and ruining their body.

And then it withdraws, and Death’s humanoid features drop, briefly, into a saddened frown. He doesn’t look at them, even as their body wracks through another brutal shudder and sinks closer to his own, twisting and arching and stretching evermore with the pulsating of the void.

He shoves into them again, filling them outward to their sides and their limbs, draining essence into them as much as from them, polluting the very concept of what makes them human. Their legs are shaking and unstable, pussy glistening with obscene amounts of fluid as their stomach stretches and pulls in and then goes wide with how _ full _ they must be. Black tendrils stick to their windpipe and catch on their tonsils, keeping their throat plugged until they are gasping, no air in their lungs, nothing in them but _ Death, _his embrace, his being, every inch of him corrupting and devouring. 

Their eyes fall shut and he thrusts the deep, endless form of dark back through them, piercing, nailing-- pointed and throbbing and made to render them senseless. Their body is nearly suspended with it, and squeezing tight even while they open, over and over as their form is milked free of all the warmth in it and they’re left gasping, again, when their throat is emptied and their lower holes are sent gushing, legs dangling over the edge of the stone, well-used and adequately pushed to their limits.

The darkness begins to leave their body, and Alexei’s lowered over Death’s form once more. They’re panting wildly, like an animal, desperate for breath and mindless in spirit. Every part of them is warm, clouded, suffused - and they remember their deal, pleasure for a name, and their fingers slip down again.

“I...haah- nnngh,” they can only make sounds as they slip three fingers into his body again, then four, all diving up to meet the most pleasurable part of his anatomy. They can feel his body buck, and hear the hiss of his mind; they pant against him as they work his body open, further and further, enough that they’re slowly tucking in their thumb...

Death's feet arch and press flat against the rock to keep his body in place, his eyelids falling shut as they flicker between humanoid grey and monstrous black, rolling back into the current vessel’s skull as he shakes violently, body seeming to glitch into swirling patches of writhing black when their fingers nudge into a spot so pleasurable he had hardly been aware it existed. His body stretches further than would seem possible, parting without any sort of strain or resistance as it contorts to accommodate their fingers, hand, even arm if they would so wish it, knees falling slack and legs left to the side, unmoving, while his human defiles him.

_ ...aaaalexei… please… nnnnnn... _

_ give… give me… _

_ ssssoo full… need… _

His entire arm seems to morph back into the rotting limb of before, bone-fingers at their chest, stroking the flesh reverently. The digits stop at their throat, pressing in as if mocking the consumption of life in their lungs, then hooks around the back of their head to pull their face to his own throat for them to mark as they desire.

_ … want… what humansss… want… _

Alexei presses their mouth to his throat and kisses; their fist slides into his body so easily, and prods deep inside of him. They open their mouth and bite; their other hand comes up to press at his chest, thumb down his sternum, rub against a pert bud. Gnawing at his collarbone, teeth dragging into his flesh. Scraping back his paperish skin and feeling the jarring texture of bare bone scraping against their teeth.

Alexei pushes down his body in a haze. Lips to his other nipple, pressing their fist deep into his body and then _ farther _, even more than they would a human. It only takes a second to sit back and push their arm in deeper, deeper, sinking to the widest part of their arm - and then slipping two wet fingers alongside it.

The moan which escapes Death's parted lips dances over his tongue, filling up the air in their ears and in their blood, twisting it's way into all the empty, hidden space inside of them, a call of reckless, desirous _ craving _. His hands, jittering as they are, brace to either side of his ribcage, claws shearing away flesh near where Alexei's mouth had teased at him, pads of decayed fingers awed as they massage the bruises and tears left over his flesh, nearly cherishing each one they brush. He shudders as their fist punches deep into his open, gaping entrance, and suddenly goes tight, muscles constricting their arm and hugging it tight, even for as wholly as they're inside this body. 

More fingers probe along the sensitive ridges and folds of the flesh edging his sensuous hole, and his muscles flex involuntarily, unabashed lust causing black tears to spill from his eyes and cloudy, grey drool to spill out of his mouth. He relaxes, effortful, and more fluid gushes from his overstretched orifice, slack and willing though it grows in order to accommodate and take in more of their body, anything they prove willing to give. His back scrapes along the rock, ichor seeping out from it and down over the perfect edges, coalescing in a pool on the ground. Death moans, wanton, glitching in form again as his human legs try to push against Alexei's shoulders, over the back of them, heels in their neck to push them closer to the ruined husk of him, reeking of atrophy and decomposition with his stimulation. 

_ … you… you cannn… use the otherrr… _

_ want you _

_ ! _

“You like this, then. You want me to pry you apart,” they say, saliva thick in their mouth, breaths mere pantings against his skin. Their fingers are pushing deeper inside, beginning to reach out, push at him as far as they can muster, two, then three, then four. Meanwhile their mouth sets about the insides of his thighs; they’re biting, and their teeth sink through the thin flesh, and blood coalesces onto their tongue. It’s almost smoky; they drink it down, hardly sated with mere drops. They want it. They want _ so much more _.

But there’s a problem.

Their forearm’s in up to its elbow. Their other hand is stuck at four fingers - not at their own creed, but because of his anatomy. His hipbones are so narrow; too much so. They want in deeper, want to absolutely pry him and _ tear him apart _.

But . . .

Lubed as he is on their arm, and lax as his body is, they grab him and flip him over easily, though the motion only pushes him further down, more inches past the crease of their arm. Their other arm they brace over the back of his hips, elbow lined where the join of his hips should be, at their thinnest point . . .

Well, he wasn’t really human, was he? Was this what he meant when he said he’d been through all sorts of perversions?

_ May I? _ They ask. _ I want to be deeper inside of you - fuller. Entirely. _

He can feel them in his center, can sense them in his very soul, so deeply rooted and penetrating, pushing and thrusting in and out of his void, layer by layer drilling deeper into his flesh. He's both too lax and yet not lax enough, pliant and easily spread as he seems, urging them in with the rhythmic ebb and pull of his body, shuddering as if returning from stasis. It was invigorating. It was _ annihilating. _He could even have called it sublimating.

Death's arm remains limp where it's trapped beneath his belly, palm over the slender, fine bones of his hips and the defined line of his pelvis, his form still as their arms shift and pry him apart. Their elbow pressesup through the veneer of his skin, knuckles nudging against his fabricant innards, shifting them apart and pushing them out of the way to hilt their hands in deeper. Death’s chasm squelches as his facade begins to liquefy, system by system, his guts no more real than his second form, but all the more malleable, easily rid of. An exorbitant amount of liquid floods the rest of his body while he drips slick and bleeds over their arms and godlike fists. He's nearly sopping, so open and aching for them that he's forgotten his dignity, his propriety, entirely.

He does _ like _it. More than like, to be sure, he loves it, is at home in this degradation and improper pleasure beyond what he ever imagined.

So lost to craving is he that he's lost sensibility, lost self-control. His tendrils curl around Alexei's thighs and up their back to their shoulders, urgent, ardent, squeezing as ropes might to paint ligature marks onto them. The intention is clear: _ give me everything, now, or I will eviscerate you. Use me beyond use, or you will know pain beyond pain. Please. _

_ yes _

_ PLEASE my ssssweet, my alexxx… _

_ yesss. _

_ fill me. saturate me. _

_ impregnate me. _

They let out half a cry as his tendrils squeeze their body, bringing upon them such absolute pain it makes starts blink behind their eyes - they writhe, enough to get them off, so they can shift and bring themselves better over his pelvis, sharp elbow perfectly over where the hips shoulder break.

And then they slam down.

The first hit shakes his whole frame so easily it’s a surprise it doesn’t fracture his hips all together. The second one - they can feel the slight give, and hear the _ crunch _ that accompanies the cracking of bone. A fracture. They gasp, and bear down, feeling and hearing the snaps and pops of his bones coming apart. Harder, deeper, grittier.

They bring down their whole arm, and his hips dip almost disturbingly low. They’re so close.

They bring their arm up, and pause - and then _ slam _ it down so forcefully his whole lower back bends along its spine as his hips _ shatter apart _.

His legs immediately stiffen and kick out, pulling closer as ankles twist and knees bend inwards and both of the slight, conjured limbs go still and slack beside their body, pushed carelessly to the side as their arm fragments the last barrier keeping them from taking Death whole. Their other fingers slip to caress his puckered entrance, dyed black and utterly ruined to disrepair, his engorged cock swollen at the line of his broken pelvis, the globes of his pale ass both raw and scraped of much of the skin, bleeding from his previous squirming against the dais under their bodies.

Death exhales in _ relief, _ mouth loose with whimpers and cries and moans of ecstasy, each touch plucking contented noises out of his vocal chords. His eyes flutter shut and his throat hisses with appreciation, being near immobile for the moment, but _ impossibly _satisfied, drunk on their energy. His purpled, over bitten tongue runs along his lip, smile growing wide on his face, his mind relaxed and nearly joyous when he reaches behind himself for their second arm with a cold hand, urging it to press inside.

_ … lovely… my lovely… _

_ Alexei. _

_ youuu… have earned… _

_ all names. _

Their heart _ pounds _ . They gulp, and they realize just how nervous they were, sweat down the back of their neck and over the small of their back, but they feel impossibly . . . _ powerful _ . So much so that they had a hand even over Death, and it’s no time before they’re bringing that hand down to his ass and _ pushing in _, both arms inside of him, feeling his cavern stretching and stretching and accommodating, even until they’re so deep in that their elbows are barely visible and they can push through his skin to feel the stone dais underneath-

And then they fuck him. Kneeling between his ruined legs, drawing both arms out and shoving them back in, so wet and sticky and covered in the unnatural lubrication of his body that it feels almost easy to wreck him. And his body’s shoving back and forth against the stone, skin flaying, and they savour the screams that come from his lips - unreal, all too satisfying. It’s so much that they pull their arms apart, stretching him to his maximum, as they feel the tendril of darkness sliding up their inner thigh, and _ oh, fuck, they’d been so ruined before, but they wanted to be filled like he is, filled and then left swollen . . . _

“Fill me,” they breathe, unable to hide the feral grin on their face as they push their hips down into the darkness readying against their cunt. “Fill me like I fill _ you _.”

The void swarms their body before they can speak another word, sending shockwaves of delight through their cunt as it's forced wide. Errant pulses of energy vibrate through their cervix, past their walls and into their reproductive organs, their very cells opening enough to accommodate the small pushes of Death inside their skin. Abyss plunges into their womb, stretching their gut loose and pooling into it, plugging them so full they can scarcely move, save their gyrating, frantic motions to force themselves onto the solid entity made of his energy. Their ass, too, stretches, hollows out to make room for curious tendrils that search and explore, weaving through their anal cavity and hooking into their back, breaking loose only to shoot through their spine and up into their skull. Their skin shifts over their muscles as the darkness crawls about within it, curling their toes and flexing their fingers for them, making white flash behind their eyes again and again and _ again. _

Their body tenses and gives all at once, spilling their juices everywhere across the stone and Death's prone legs, gushing and clenching and expanding further when the energy in their gut suddenly bulges and evaporates at once, Death's own fluid pumping their body full of some unknown, supernatural substance that tingles pleasantly inside them and warms them to their blood, seeding itself into them as they pant, sated and full, so _ full, _left leaking as they try to regain their breath.

They scream through it - every inch of them clenching, tightening, going taut as they give some final shoves into his cavity. They can feel his body crack and give under their hands, his hips fractured, legs splaying apart, his spine shivering and shaking with every thrust. They can feel darkness dripping down the inside of their legs, and more than that, they feel _ stretched _, their womb pressing out, enough so when they look down they almost seem pregnant. They pull out of him with a gasp, and their hands and arms are covered in black, translucent slick. They look so debauched - they reach down and press at their womb; they moan as they press down, and a current of slick juices spill out of their cunt and over their thighs.

“_ Oh, gods . . . _” they moan, long and whorish, as they finally collapse beside him, their legs splayed open in a perfect picture of defilement. They reach over and touch a hand to Death's back, feeling along his shoulderblades, gentle, entire body still shaking from the onslaught of pleasure. Their eyes widen as they look down to their own bloated abdomen, and their hands fall back to their stomach, cradling the fullness of it and moaning heavily, so sated, so engorged.

Death says nothing as they lie collapsed at his side, withdrawn from the clutch of his skin and cradling themselves, touching their own body with uncertainty, appreciating the luxuries of his favor, beyond their comprehension. He seizes, static overcoming his being wholly, the tendrils of dark coiling tight and pressing like a second coat of flesh to his current skin, until the entire cavern goes pitch, and his breathing dissipates fully.

The light begins to fade in, returning to him slowly. In the place where before there had been a brittle, broken humanoid, there now lay an abnormally tall, spindly creature with blackened brambles protruding from the back of its head. Its face seems surreal, like something of a nightmare; still with a nose and eyes with neither iris nor pupil, the whole of them colored a strange, milky white. Its face is devoid of a mouth, with thorn-like vines wrapped about the place a mouth might be instead, twisting about its skull and neck, down over its entire body. Black blood seeps out from the bottom of its eyes, without seeming reason or cause, and its arms seem somewhere between earthen and bone, rotten flesh crumbling like dirt away from the bleached bones though they appear intact. Cracks line portions of what must be its skin, and bone can clearly be seen beneath, hidden in tangles of black that must act as veins. 

_ Look on me while you can, _ he tells them, more coherent in voice than he has ever been before, _ for I am not meant to be seen with human eyes. _

Their eyes, indeed, go wide. He’s- . . . . indescribable. The branches that line his crown, and wrap around his visage; the pure white of his eyes that almost seems to glow. The way his body melds between half-earth, half-bone - and that’s all they can see before their eyes snap shut.

_ Why? _ They wonder, but it’s obvious - their head already hurts, feeling like it’s splitting apart. He did say they could only look so long, but for as much panic as that gives them, the gentle touch of his bone-like fingers against their cheek reassures them entirely. They find themselves pushing forward - as much as they can with such a large, swollen gut - and curling up against him, forehead to his chest, arms wrapped around his body.

They're shaken, still vibrating to their very core, oversensitive enough that it makes them want to cry. Yet when they close their eyes tighter and ease the strain in their muscles, all they feel is a mute sense of relief, of thankfulness, and intense relaxation, enough to seem acedic. They curl into Death, tangling arms around his back to hold him, just as he holds them. His body is an anchor against their uncertainty, and clinging tight to it feels natural in the dark - they're not sure what they’d be able to do otherwise.

_ You’re so cool_, they think quietly. _ Like stone under current. But still soft. Would I go mad if I looked at you longer? _

_ More than mad, _he clicks, laughing softly inside their head. His body curls against their own, phasing through their arms one second, fully materialized the next, arms a mix of flesh and earth embracing them without care, clinging to them so tightly it's as if he's scared. 

_ You would be blinded. Your senses would fail you. Your memories would fade into nothing. And then your heart would fall still and I would steal your breath away. _ He brushes their hair away from their face, touching their cheek and pressing a finger against their chin in a sincerely tender way. _ It is from self-preservation that your vessel learns to shield its eyes, the windows of the world to the soul. For that, I am glad. I would not see you taken as mine quite yet. _

_ Well_, they think tiredly, _ I’m sure that’d be my cue to ask when my time’s supposed to be up. Though I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me. The living aren’t supposed to know when they die _ . At the noise of his confirming, they nuzzle in closer, and hold on tighter. _ Perhaps it’s foolish to fear death. But I’m too young. I want to live as long as I can. I’m sure that’s nothing new for you to hear. _

And didn’t that just turn the whole mood somber. They’re so tired; their body’s aching, full, stuffed even, and his body is cool at their side. They shiver, and the next moment they’re warm again - wrapped up in some illusion that Death has procured. Alexei sighs wistfully and smiles. The concern is . . . touching.

_ I missed you _ , they tell him. _ So much. Do you have to leave again? I’d love to . . . nnn . . . to stay a little longer . . . _

_ I have no choice, sweet. However I presume to feel, I am not allowed such frivolities as choice. My yearning for you is defiant, contrary to the laws of nature itself. I must leave to take, and right the order of my absence for even as long as I have been here. Though you will find our meetings do not follow the rules of your own timeline. You have been in this cave for only a matter of seconds… and I have already begun to leave. I would stay if I were able, but my tasks are my own, and I may not relegate them to one of mere Despair or Plight another moment more. _

His mouthless face presses to their temple, leaving the reminder of his affection behind. _ I will return to you once I have understood how I might share your life. But you should be warned… my desire for you may drain you of moments and years you may have kept otherwise. Do you still wish me yours, Alexei? _

_ . . . what? Am I . . . am I dying faster for being with you? _ They want to open their eyes wide in shock, but find that they can't, not with them screwed shut in self-preservation. But their body’s already frozen, regardless of what he’s said - slowly, they push back, and tilt their face up to where his is meant to be. _ Am I going to lose years of my life alive by- by joining with you? Do I have no choice? _

_ The longer you keep me, the shorter your life. Not by drastic means… a few days for a few weeks. A couple of months for a year. But many years and your years, too, will dwindle. I would not damn you to that fate without first telling you of it. We shall have few secrets between us. _

“I . . .” they can’t help but clam up. Their arms retreat back to their chest; they tuck in their chin, and shiver. “I . . . don’t know. I need time to . . . to think.”

_ … yes. I understand. _Death's voice dwindles and becomes once more an unsteady hum. Hands on their skin feel more like flesh, sticky and cold, but vaguely like their own. Lips press chastely to their own, and then to their forehead.

“You may… open… your eyes… I will see them once more? Before… I depart.”

“. . . of course,” they say, smiling weakly, still perturbed. But they do open their eyes for him; they gaze into the warm silverlight of his tired, near-human orbs, and force themselves to grin a little more. They lift their arms and pillow their head on their elbows, continuing to look at him until their eyelids droop and fall closed.

  
_ . . . I wish I never had to leave _, they think before sleep claims them once more. But they are tired, and like death, they know they cannot stay.


End file.
